


Göttingen Heist

by JLBRD



Series: Heist Wives love strays [2]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Do not read if you haven't seen the series yet, F/F, The Queen's Gambit crossover, there are spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLBRD/pseuds/JLBRD
Summary: She’s greeted by the sight of a woman who dresses sharper than herself, which is a bar set quite high.They both say nothing, instead quietly studying each other, simultaneously sizing up the competition and coming to an understanding.Finally, someone who respects the value of sophistication and theatricalism.
Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean
Series: Heist Wives love strays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985512
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. Mexico City. New York. Moscow.

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s pretend The Queen’s Gambit isn’t set in 1967, okay? Also, I'd recommend reading after finishing the show. There are spoilers coming up since I tried to stick as closely as possible to the (fantastic) story.
> 
> Watch [this absolute goddess](https://imagesvc.meredithcorp.io/v3/mm/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fstatic.onecms.io%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2Fsites%2F6%2F2020%2F10%2F16%2Fqueens-gambit.jpg) be brilliant, as always. And let me know what you think of the below! Enjoy.

Beth Harmon is orphaned for a second time after her adoptive mother dies in Mexico City. _Hepatitis_ , figures. With her luck, she’ll go in a similar fashion.

She’s determined, more than ever, to become a world-renowned chess Grandmaster. In the meantime, she goes to New York with Benny for training.

She finds out quickly enough that speed chess is _not_ her game.

The next morning after losing more games in one night than her entire career combined, she leaves bright and early to learn from the city’s best; surely, better players exist apart from Benny. She heads to Central Park’s section where tables are lined up, men of all ages enjoying coffee and stimulating games.

It takes her a good portion of the day, but she eventually gets the change of pace, adjusting strategies in place accordingly. She goes to sit for her closing match for the day, greeting Bruce with a warm smile (he has been the least gruff of the bunch), but he gets up and tips his hat towards her.

Confused, she starts to protest. “Why are you leaving? I thought we’d bonded, Bruce.”

He chuckles and simply says, “you have nothing more to learn from me. My friend, on the other hand…” as he walks off.

She’s greeted by the sight of a woman who dresses sharper than herself, which is a bar set quite high. They both say nothing, instead quietly studying each other, simultaneously sizing up the competition and coming to an understanding.

 _Finally, someone who respects the value of sophistication and theatricalism_.

And so, they begin.

-x-

In the duration of their decades-long partnership, Lou is self-aware enough to admit that of the two of them, she would be more likely to bring home strays to adopt. In fact, she’s done so repeatedly: they currently have a cat and a dog that Debbie claims to be indifferent about, but the way she spoils them says otherwise. They have Constance, as well. (When pressed for answers, it’s an undisputed fact that the latter is the most high maintenance. Toffee and Horatio may chew Louboutins, but at least they don’t complain about not having prime rib every night.)

So, imagine Lou’s surprise when one Tuesday afternoon and the front door slams open, after asking what Debbie wants for dinner, the answer was “Beth wants to try the new Indian place we passed on the way in. Apparently, she’s on the hunt for the best curry in the city.”

Sure enough, while she’s splayed out reading on the sofa, two heads peek in behind the book she’s holding over her head – something Debbie mocks her relentlessly about. _‘Don’t your arms fall asleep? Learn to read like a normal person, Miller.’_

She hasn’t survived life with Debbie this long by going against her plans, so rolling with the punches as usual, she quips, “Well, _Beth_ has excellent taste and will fit right in, honey.”

Just like that, they had another post-teenaged stray in the loft, constantly rummaging through snack cupboards and the fridge. At least this one isn’t a brat (just yet). A guaranteed troublemaker though, if the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the liquor cabinet is any indication.

-x-

Word spread fast enough about ‘Deb’s kid,’ a phrase that so far has not failed to make Beth roll her eyes, Debbie to scoff, and Lou to grin before a contemplative look takes over.

Everyone involved in the Met heist is recklessly competitive, which naturally led to them challenging a US champion to multiple rounds, each one dropping like flies soon enough with wounded egos. Daphne is the exemption since she made up her own rules, completely butchering the game, Beth too bewildered to do anything but play along.

_‘My king will move like a knight now.’_

_‘Uh… Okay?’_

It was revealed that there was a draw when Debbie and Beth faced each other that first day in Central Park and haven’t gotten around to a re-match since.

And so, they begin one more time.

-x-

After Beth wins big in Russia, officially earning the title she’s been working obsessively for – some would argue she was _born_ for the title, she wins even bigger in the betting pool they have setup back in New York. She bet everyone a million each that she would win this time over Borgov, and everyone was foolish enough, rich enough to take the bait.

(In reality, Debbie and Lou knew better than to take bad bets, but are unfortunately soft enough to humour Beth. What’s $2 million to them now?)

They celebrate with pizza and juice boxes since Beth claims to have consumed “enough caviar and vodka to last all of us a lifetime,” to which there were pouting and grumbling that they wished to have the same problem.

Life was good – she had just achieved a major professional victory, but she still feels a missing piece, a pending move she has yet to execute. _What happens now?_ She shudders remembering how lost she felt on the day of Mother’s passing, and it wasn’t caused by her first defeat against Borgov.

She must have zoned out for too long since the next thing she knows, there are tears down her face, and everyone is filing out the door, shooting concerned glances, but bidding her congratulations and good night, nonetheless.

Lou approaches, sitting close but not touching, waiting for Beth to seek out comfort. It’s an easy call - she lays her head on the blonde’s lap.

“What’s on your mind, Lizzy?” Beth hums, smiling at the nickname and the soothing patterns being traced along her hair.

“I, um, I’m not sure what to do now.”

“About anything in particular, or?” Lou frowns.

By now, Debbie has come around with some blueprints, setting them aside in favour of setting up the board for a specific scenario. Beth yawns, but knows she’ll always be up for a game. Especially against a worthy opponent like Debbie.

“You know, I’ve got an empty house to get back to, a deadbeat _father_ who’s claiming said empty house after already giving it to me. I’ll probably buy it off him since he doesn’t deserve it. Other than that,” she shrugs, trailing off.

Lou clears her throat, trying to get Debbie’s attention. It’s her cue to jump in, but Debbie’s deliberately ignoring her. If one looks closely enough, there’s a slight tremor in her hands that will be pointedly denied.

Beth sighs, moving around to get comfortable enough to sleep. She misses all the communication happening via Debbie’s and Lou’s meaningful looks. For once, Debbie gives in. She brought the kid in for a reason, after all.

Beth feels a finger poke her on the side and she grumbles. She just found the perfect position, so she cracks an eye open, still refusing to move. “What?”

 _I swear to god._ Debbie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Come here, you brat. I’ve got to show you something.”

Beth whines, obliging when Lou rubs her back-slash-warning before she gets shoved off.

“Look, Lou and I have been thinking and discussing—”

“Among other things. I know, you two are loud,” her eyes averting in disgust and embarrassment.

Lou laughs, but Debbie is not amused. “Don’t make me regret this offer before I even tell you about it.”

That sobers her up. “Fine, fine. What is it?”

“Lou would like it if you stayed with us?” She flinches internally at her own questioning tone.

Lou groans, “Deborah, you are beyond irritating. More so than usual,” while Beth teases, “Oh? She would like it, but you wouldn’t?”

For a second time, Debbie gives in. “Alright, alright. It was my idea.”

“Aw, shucks,” Beth fake flutters her lashes.

“ _And_ we would like you to join us on our next job.”

“You flatter me. But how will I be useful? You’re the strategic mastermind here.”

“Aw, shucks.”

Lou interrupts the love fest. “We just want you to keep us company. Can’t keep a minor unsupervised in a large loft perfect for a party. Even if it’s a party for one.”

“I’m not a minor,” she grumps.

“Listen, we’re stealing something related to the board’s setup right now.”

D4

D5

C4

“The queen’s gambit?” Debbie didn’t have to wait long for the dots to connect. With her mouth gaping, Beth screeches, uncharacteristic, “You’re stealing the manuscript from the 1400s?”

“Say that louder, New Jersey didn’t hear you the first time,” Debbie snapped.

Lou turns away from the drama quickly unfolding before her. They’ll learn to play nice. “I hear Germany has lovely weather this time of year.”

And so, they begin one last time.


	2. Frankfurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s for Ansa who not only enables my brain vomits, but encourages them to be shared. Wishing you the happiest birthday!

“Alright. Now, what?” Constance asks no one specifically, unused to long stretches of silence.

Shading her face from the sun (and the authorities, if she’s being honest), Beth observes the view in front of them – police officers, red and white _polizeiabsperrung_ tape, nosy onlookers disrupting the investigation of the missing quarto parchment manuscript, 33 leaves in total – while the suspects look on from a safe distance, unbothered.

Beside her is a familiar sight: Lou chewing gum slowly, utterly blasé to the chaos they’ve caused, while Debbie works through her second pretzel within the hour. How she stays fit is beyond Beth; the woman loves to eat. From time to time, she’d lean over their faces and offer a bite of her food – a huge honour if one knew Debbie at all (though she’d downplay it and claim she needs them all alive) and get shakes of heads accompanied by a comment or two.

 _“What are we still doing here? We could already be on our way to see the peeing tree._ Pinkelbaum _,” Constance butchers the word to get glares out of any local eavesdropping._

_Beth expressed her interest in trying Spaghetti ice cream and almost got orphaned a third time._

_Constance did send her a text saying they’ll “sneak out to try it once the senior citizens are sleeping… or boning. It’s about time I explore white culture, at least whatever they’ve stolen.”_

She snickers slightly, getting raised eyebrows in a silent question, bringing them all back to the present. Beth waves their curiosity off, asking if the site is causing anybody major déjà vu. Lou and Debbie look amused and, inevitably bored, announce they’ll talk about _that_ heist over proper food and beer. _When in Germany_ and all that.

That’s a real saying, right?

-x-

“We can’t fucking take you anywhere, I swear!”

Constance cackles loudly while dodging Debbie’s hands slapping anywhere she can reach, struggling since Lou is sadly holding her back.

“Fam, you brought me here literally _because_ you wanted me to steal.”

“If we get caught because you wanted a souvenir, you’d better pray we don’t bunk together in prison,” Debbie seethes.

She shrugs. “I hear their jails here in Europe are sick. We’ll be fine. You can bunk with Lou.”

“Is that a prison bitch joke?” Lou deadpans.

“N-no… But also, you said it, I didn’t,” Hands held up in a universal sign of resignation.

“Be careful or you’ll find yourself flying coach if you keep it up. Would be a shame since the snack bar’s been stocked up with your extensive list.”

Beth’s laughter subsided and she comments the obvious, “You could have bought the restaurant… and you chose to steal a pint glass. There are shops to buy them from, you know.”

Constance is ready to rationalise. “Nah, USD conversion is shit, dude. Barely worth it.”

“I hope you treasure that glass forever. And that the jet doesn’t get stopped by customs.”

“Right. Because we _didn’t_ rob a whole university and _definitely didn’t_ watch the cops search the crime scene we just left, like 2 minutes before.”

“You’re making it seem like a bunch of parchment from 1471 belongs to anybody. No one even really knows who wrote the thing.”

“You right, you right. This is why you’re the brain around here.”

-x-

Despite Debbie’s earlier (mostly faux) outrage, they did go see the peeing tree, per Constance’s request for her vlog’s sake. But only after the right amount of groveling – even multi-millionaires love bribes.

_“Please, please, please. I’ll get you shiny Rolexes. And perfumes. What else do you like? Pretty lingerie!” Muttering under her breath about ‘fiends.’_

_“Cut it out. It was fine until you mentioned that last part. You don’t even know Lou’s preferences.”_

_“Unbelievable. Honest to god, you guys have a problem.”_

_“Have you seen the both of us?”_

As they look up at the tree with a strange appendage, Constance thinks out loud. “I have to say, she’s majestic, but anti-climactic with the general lack of peeing happening.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

“Is that what you say to women? Have we taught you nothing?”

“I got game, Ocean. Leave me alone. Now, are you gonna be in my video or are you helping me film for once? I have to climb this baby…”

“We are leaving you here if you so much as touch a branch in that tree.”

“But—"

Ignoring the usual bickering, Lou turns to Beth as they wander around the park. “What do you think?“

“Eh. Just that Toffee would probably pee enough to get water flowing again.”

They laugh, thinking of the Labrador with the world’s smallest bladder who has a penchant for ruining Daphne’s things every time she comes over.

_“Uhh, your dog is obsessed with me,” Preening unnecessarily, thrilled for excuses to shop more than normal. “Great taste though. Come here, go for my purse next.”_

_(She hasn’t suspected that it’s all about training. Constance watches A LOT of Cesar Millan.)_

“Any other stops you want to make? Had enough bratwursts yet?”

Beth groans, thinking of her brand new and exclusive food group from now on.

“We _have to_ smuggle some home, please. Tammy also asked for some.”

“Tammy always did like bangers.”

“I know we’re racking up our illegal activities in a short span of time, so I hope we can squeeze in another. By the way, can we check out Goethe’s house? Maybe try his favourite meal?”

“That vile-looking green sauce?” Lou wrinkles her nose, it’s mostly for show since she immediately approves. “Sure, bug. Anything you want.”

Beth eyes her, suspicious but happy.

-x-

Beth’s happiness radiated long after they left Goethe-Haus. Being a voracious reader, she took in every detail in silent wonder, probably thinking of the ideas and masterpieces that came to fruition within the building’s confines.

Exhausted from the day’s excitement, her head leans on Lou as she sleeps even if there are many more empty seats and beds. Constance has occupied a whole other sectional, amazingly enough.

It’s a long flight home, but Lou was never good at relaxing in vehicles she’s not operating, plus the adrenaline of leaving the country without raising suspicion has her restless, though not anxious. After the Toussaint ordeal, she seriously doubts anything can make any of them nervous.

She watches as Debbie prepares Beth’s birthday gift, effectively diminishing the value of a 547-year-old artifact by carelessly slapping a Post-It note on top.

It reads:

“’Daring ideas are like chessmen moved forward. They may be beaten, but they may start a winning game.’

Here’s to all the moves you decide to make – may they all lead to wins.

(If not, it’s okay. Lou and I are here for you.)

Happy birthday, Lizzy.”

Debbie rolls her eyes at herself, but means each word.

-x-

Beth woke up thoroughly disoriented from some jostling in the bed. She doesn’t need to look to know that her REM’s disruption is from ever-considerate Horatio wanting to share body heat, just in case she needs it.

Wincing, she whisper-yells, “Ow, OUCH. Not my legs. We need to trim your claws, you tiny beast.”

A few head nudges and minor damage to her cashmere sweater (one Rose Weil would be offended) later and they are ready to go back to dreamland.

But then she hears it. High-pitched whining. Whether the source is human or her other four-legged friend, she doesn’t care to find out.

But she does care to buy solid headphones later today.

-x-

Feeling much less jet-lagged than earlier, Beth ventures downstairs to follow the smell of fresh pancakes, along with something meaty. She sends a silent thank you to Buddha that the precious sausages made it across the Atlantic.

“Decided to grace us with your presence, sunshine?” and “Your birthday's almost come and gone,” were the sarcastic greetings she received upon reaching the kitchen. She called out how domestic they sound, dodging the nagging for the moment. Then her interest is piqued by the folder with her name on it.

“Oh, you really didn’t have to. You’re not selling this? Might be worth a fortune.” Mumbling around a mouthful, already thinking of ways to incorporate the openings outlined in the manuscript into future games.

“Debbie’s all about big gestures. You know she really loves you since she did this to be nice without getting millions out of it.”

“Hey asshole, proposing to you with pieces of crown jewels wasn’t nice enough?”

“Thought they were adoption papers for a second there,” She tests Debbie, satisfied once she sees her pale a little bit. “Ha! You should see your face. I wouldn’t do that to you two with this curse seeming to follow me around. But, come on, don’t look _so_ relieved. I still have mommy issues. So much trauma here, people,” Gesturing to her entire body.

“It’s a good thing we can afford your therapy,” Lou adds distractedly, moving food from pans to plates.

“Yeah, a very good thing. Totally unrelated to my mentioned trauma – can we go to the city later and get expensive headphones? I heard you guys this morning. It was, like, 5 AM. Ew,” Looking genuinely scandalised as she turned to go upstairs. "I thought it might be Toffee needing to pee, but we all know that would be a lie."

“We can’t wait for you to move out either, sweetheart,” Lou blows her a kiss.

“Happy 22nd, you little shit. Take the plane and go back to your Parisian girlfriend. Maybe you'll worry about your own sex life and less of ours.”

“Thank you so much. Seriously, for my sanity, noise cancelling would be appreciated. Love you!”


End file.
